Closing the Door, Then Cracking the Door, Then Closing it Again on Baby Years

I usually don't share things like this. I used to. I used to be fine and happy to write out what I feel inside. Then I began to worry if people were actually listening.

Beautiful baby boys. I have two of them. I wrap them up in love every day, and some days I feel overwhelmed by their strong kicks (to my stomach) and words that come easy since they are comfortable with me (like sharp demands for more snacks), but we're always working on manners, and I absolutely adore them.

As most mothers do, I celebrate their advances and also wish they would slow down growing. I want them to be my babies forever, but day-to-day life truly does get easier as they become more autonomous.

My husband and I planned to stop at two. These boys make me feel so happy and fulfilled. But, at the same time, my heart has always whispered, "One more?"

There are so many arguments against trying for a third.
Aren't two overwhelming enough?
We've made it so far.
Do you want to start over again?
Will you be able to give enough love to three?
Will your schedules bend enough for three?
And work. What about work? How hard will that be?
You JUST started teaching residentially again.
And one of the kids will have to move into the room over the garage eventually. And then where will guests sleep?
Pregnancy is hard....
Labor is hard.... 
Nursing is hard....
Do you really want to risk another miscarriage? Remember how devastating that was?
AND COLLEGE?! How are you even going to pay for college for two kids, let along THREE?
And your marriage. Won't a third mean even less completed sentences between you and your husband.
And you gave away A LOT of baby clothes and gear. Want to buy that all over again? 
And also your maternity clothes.
Are you ready to not sleep for a year again?
And to worry the entire pregnancy?
Even if you have another baby, that isn't going to make your current kids stop growing. They're going to grow up. All of them. Having another one isn't going to let you re-live their infanthoods. That time is over.

So, after all of that, I usually come to the conclusion that no, we won't try for a third.

And then this month, my period was late. It was missing, actually. When I was a week late, I wondered What if?  And I felt scared. "Well, excited AND scared." I love my boys dearly, but with both of them (and my miscarried baby), I felt both excited and scared when I found out I was pregnant.

A week and a HALF went by. My What if? turned into I hope! I even started talking to Chris about names. NAMES. I day dreamed. I estimated a due date. I ordered pregnancy tests online because even now, with two babies and almost 29 years old, I still feel weird buying pregnancy tests. Awkward... Maybe it would be a girl. I would name her Magnolia, my favorite tree. I've never met anyone named Magnolia. If it were a boy, I'd name him Desmond (if Chris would agree). People would make Lost jokes since we'd have a Jack and a Desmond. I started mentally working up my eye roll routine for those "three boys?!" comments from strangers. I felt a new adventure. I hoped. I hoped. I hoped.

And then, after two weeks, that dream was over.

No third baby.

And with a sigh, I said, Okay. Okay, okay. The morning was quiet. Both boys slept in. I looked at old photos of them an newborns and infants. And I smiled. I loved my time with them. I loved my babies. But I love my time with them now as boys. Jack will be two in two weeks. That breaks my heart, but I love him so dearly. He is so sweet and I am excited for his language to continue to develop. Eliot will turn five in the winter. Such a big boy. He is doing amazing things every day. We write books together--he tells me the words, I write them down, and he draws the pictures. He's a little athlete and great student--he loves school. Maybe two is enough. Maybe if I had a third, I'd always yearn for another because my natural instinct as a woman is to create life to nurture. Maybe that's just who I am. Maybe I am closing the door on the baby years and locking that door, but I don't necessarily have to throw away the key right now. I'm so thankful for both of my boys. They're not babies anymore. And that's okay.

A Day in the Life

Ever wonder where your day goes? This is where mine went. Not complaining. Just looking at it all go by.

6:00 am. Jack wake-up call.
6:20 am. Eliot is awake and creepily hiding in the hall and murmuring about wanting the ipad. Make breakfast for the boys.
7:20 am. 1.3 mile family walk!
7:50 am. Make an egg for myself for breakfast while everyone else has absolute meltdowns over the fact that I am unavailable for their whims.
8:00 am. Help kids draw and color so they don't kill eachother.
8:30 am. Pack up the kids and go to the park.
9:20 am. 1.5 mile run around the lake.
9:40 am. Play at the park! They're having a great time and behaving really great.

11:00 am. Leave the park. Kids demand Sonic slushes. Ok...
11:30 am. Home! Make kids lunch.
12:00 pm. I take a shower.
12:30 pm. Jack goes down for a nap.
12:30 pm - 2:30 pm. Play games and watch Godzilla with Eliot. Eat yogurt and almonds for lunch in bed. Sneak in a power nap in between Godzilla battles.

2:30 pm - 3:15 pm. Deep clean the bathrooms and kitchen.
3:30 pm. Jack wakes up! What a long nap! Get him a snack.
4:00 pm. Go to Home Depot with Chris for mulch; go to Target with Chris for food.
5:45 pm. Home and unload groceries... Make dinner. Chris grills chicken and I chop veggies.
6:15 pm. Eat dinner. 
6:30 pm. Take the boys into Eliot's room to play Hungry, Hungry Hippos until Jack breaks it and the boys fight. Then play dinosaurs. Read books... Clean up Eliot's room whenever they're distracted enough.
7:30 pm. Eliot has another meltdown over I-don't-know-what because he is tired. I read to him in bed and tuck him in for the night.
8:15 pm. Jack is outside playing with Chris. They're having a great time, but it is bedtime.
8:30 pm - 8:45 pm. Jack throws fits getting dressed, throws a chair on my foot, and cries until he passes out.
8:45 pm. Work emails.
9:30 pm. This, for some reason.

On Running, Not Running, and Not Getting Greedy

I've never claimed to be an athlete. Not at all. I never passed the mile in gym class. Running was always hard and painful. Then I met Chris. It seemed to come easy to him--running, that is--and if you looked at him now, you'd think it was always that way. Chris loves to run. He truly, really loves it. But it hasn't always been easy. I watched him try to run through injuries, struggle with getting in shape, and pour himself in a run that did not feel good. I've seen him run races and really worry if he was going to pass out afterward.

Few people know the real work he puts in and struggles he has gone through to make it where he is today. Few people truly love running the way Chris does, I think. 

Throughout our relationship, I wanted to understand and share that love for running with him. He wanted a running partner and I wanted to be there for him. I can't tell you how many times I tried, and each time, I would fail again and again. A couple of times I made it up to running 30 minutes, but it always felt too hard.


Until this past fall. For some reason, I decided to try again. And I took it really slow. Having the Nike Plus app helped me to understand how far I had gone and my pace without guessing. I could see my improvement. And I was getting somewhere. Everything was going great. I had never ran more than three miles before, but I finished two 5k races, improved my speed, and even ran ten miles once. Ten miles. By myself! I enjoyed my runs as they added structure to my days that I had been missing since I worked from home.

Then our schedules grew more complicated in the spring. And it got cold in February--real cold. Record-breaking cold. I fell apart in February. I couldn't keep at it. I was so tired and could not drag myself out to run below 30 degrees. So I stopped. I went for a few runs in March, but I was disappointed by my pace. I'm the kind of person who has to run in the morning, and I hate taking two showers in a day. I decided to wait until summer to try again. I was disappointed with myself, but I knew I could get back at it when my schedule calmed down. And as of this week, I've gotten back into it.

Through this experience of taking off a couple of months of running, I have learned a few things about myself and about running in general.

Just because you take a break doesn't mean you have quit. That is up to you.
I felt like a failure for taking a break, but I realized that I decide whether it is a "break" or "quitting". A break is temporary. Quitting is an absolute end. You can decide if you want to get up and try again.


Sometimes a break is absolutely necessary to help you heal.
Before I took a break, my hip flexor would start hurting about 3/4 of a mile in. I just kept going. And going. And it would hurt my entire run. I should have stopped earlier. I needed a break to heal. Now it doesn't hurt at all. And when I ran those few times in March after my "break" in February, it didn't hurt either. So this time has given me a chance to heal up.


Don't get greedy with "too much too fast".
Along with the idea of taking a break to heal up, I need to remember to pace myself. I need to really ease into it. I'm not training for anything. I'm not trying to compete with anyone. I need to be patient with myself.


Less pressure can be a good thing.
Before, I used to post my time for each run. I worked hard to get better times. However, that pressure can sometimes not be a good thing. I think in general I might just post my distance and not worry about times so much unless I meet a big goal. Also, I used to plan to sign up for races to give myself a goal. However, as it turns out, I kind of have big freak outs at races, so I probably should just run for me. Maybe I'll try a race again, but I don't want races to be my main reason for running. When I race, I feel the crowd choking me and we're all running and I feel like I have to run faster than everyone or else I'm going to die. I'm not exaggerating--I feel like death is coming for me. Some zombie apocalypse phobia coming out or something.... Also, training for long races was also really putting a lot of unnecessary pressure on me. The longer the race, the more time you need to train. I would look at my plan and know I needed to go run for two hours, but I just didn't have time. So what did I do? Nothing. If I didn't have that pressure, maybe I could have gone for a four mile run. And that would have been a lot better than nothing at all.


This past week, I went for two runs. They felt good. I felt good. They weren't long. I didn't even check my watch for my pace the whole time. It's far from where I was, but I'm not pushing it. I don't have to. And I would rather keep my shins and ankles happy. There's time to add on more distance and speed. I'll get there again, and I'm actually probably incredibly lucky that I didn't hurt myself before by trying to run through an injury. It will be easier this time since I'm not starting from scratch--and this time I'm going to do it right by acknowledging from the beginning that it is a long journey. I should have recognized that earlier by watching Chris work so hard through all those runs. Running isn't necessarily a race.

Life Lately: Changes in Season

I was so relieved when spring finally came. Finally, a break from the cold wind. I need sunshine in my life in ways I never suspected before.

Our family has gone through a new dynamic this semester with me back in the residential classroom. I have worked from home throughout my time as a mom, and so has Chris (after Eliot turned six months old). It has been an incredible blessing. Chris and I could take turns watching the boys for each other to work, and the flexibility of Eliot being in preschool and then my mom watching them once or twice a week was amazing. I frequently took the boys on adventures by myself so Chris could work in the morning while he was "fresh". This semester, though, since I finished up my dissertation in the fall, I taught a few classes at a local community college. I wanted to expand my experiences some, and I truly enjoyed it, but I knew we would have to change our schedules.

Chris watched the boys through the morning and afternoon three days a week. Two days a week, they went to my mom's house. And then we tried to strike a balance on weekends. Chris had some special time with the boys and I kept up with both jobs, but it did make everything more fast-paced. When I came home from work, I was more tired and Jack was napping, so I'd just try to play with Eliot some. Chris did almost all of the grocery shopping, and the dinners I made were uninspired. These are all simple challenges that working mothers face, and while I have been a "working mom" as a parent, I was experiencing it all in a new way.

I have new respect for moms who work outside the home. It's not that I didn't respect them before, but now that I have been both a work-from-home mom and work-outside-the-home mom, I can see how hard it is to leave your toddler crying at the front door and then give it your all at work and come home feeling hungry but without an idea of what to cook for everyone (and feeling like it is asking too much to try to haul everyone to the grocery store).

So now that the community college semester is over and I am just teaching a few summer courses online, I am excited to get back to similar, old routines. I am feeling more free in my schedule. Eliot is in his last week of school and Jack is seeming like he "needs" to nap less. Over the past few days, I have taken the boys off by myself on adventures again (just the three of us) like I used to in order to give Chris time to work. We went for a walk at the arboretum. The next day, we went to eat lunch at Fazoli's (kind of like "fast food" Italian) followed by Italian ice and then we played in the pool. Then I took them to a splashground after Eliot got home from school.

We've had some fun adventures as a whole family too. We took Marlowe to the beach for the first time and we also went strawberry picking, our annual tradition.

 

Over the past couple of months, we have all been working very hard on the yard as well. It all starts with the constant clean up of pollen and the weeding and the trimming, but then eventually we get to the fun part: the planting. This year, we planted more bananas, canna lilies, elephant ears, flowers, and then some tropicals that will stay in pots. I love watching the elephant ears and bananas come back--it's my favorite time of year. The boys love working in the yard with us. Eliot has a blast picking out plants while Jack loves to run around. They're both eager to help us plant or dig holes or spread mulch or whatever needs doing. Last week, we worked to spread mulch to give it that clean look. And while we're always going to need to weed and clean up the yard, I think for the most part, we have all the planting done.

There's just something to being outside, something about all the green, that makes the days feel so much better. Maybe it's the sunshine. The boys play in the yard, dig in the sandbox, and swim in the pool while I sweep up or pull weeds and Chris plants more canna lilies. I love our little tropical garden backyard.

This time right now (somewhere inbetween spring and summer) is my favorite time of year.

One Year of Soccer

This past weekend, Eliot played his last spring soccer game. He played both the fall and spring seasons, making for a full year of soccer. He has come a long, long way even from last fall.

Eliot started taking lessons back when he was two (and a few months) with Lil' Kickers. There, they play games involving soccer skills, like red light-green light. I remember his first class, he didn't even want to stretch with everyone. He was so scared. Then he got TOO into it. He would run around and not listen to the coach. On his third birthday, I took him to a class and had to take him out early because he headbutted a girl. I will never, ever forget that for my entire life. Ughhhh! But, it is memories like that that make me realize that we are indeed making progress. After that class session ended, we took a little break until the fall.

As I've said before, Eliot would just cry on the field for his first fall soccer game. Then he grew in confidence and made a goal almost every game. He was still greatly distracted since he was just as happy to run around growling like a dinosaur or play airplane. He was three at the time.

This spring season, though, his concentration has really improved. He is so ready and "in it" for the game. He inches up just waiting for the play to start. Maybe he's just paying attention or maybe he is really fast, but he has done a surprisingly great job recovering the ball and taking it down the field. He's actually quite good, I think, for a four-year-old.

I'm not putting pressure on him to be anyone or do anything specifically. I just tell him to go follow the ball and have fun. I praise him for his hard work, not necessarily getting goals, and he really seems to be having a great time. I'm not trying to say he's Olympian. I'm not saying he was handed a scholarship today. I'm just saying that I'm proud of him for trying his best, giving it his all, and not just crying or growling at people. He's growing up.

Jack has been so eager to play soccer too, so I have him signed up to start Lil' Kickers class in a couple of weeks. It is a parent-child class, so he will get to interact with kids his age, play structured activities, and kick a soccer ball around. I'm excited to share in this journey with him too. As for Eliot, he will be taking summer Lil' Kickers classes too that focus on developing skills and applying those skills in scrimmages. I also signed him up for a week-long soccer "camp" in June--it's only an hour in the morning, though. He was even asking this morning when he was going to soccer.

Life Lately

I used to update this blog every day then every other day and now maybe twice a month? I need to write more.

Lately, my lack of writing hasn't been from not doing much. We've been really busy, and I do have so much to write. Sometimes it gets repetitive, though.

Just as I had hoped, with the warm weather, our family has gotten out of the cold days funk. I've been super busy with teaching at TCC and also LUO. I am teaching three residential classes with TCC, which has been a lot three days a week. I have just two and a half weeks left. I've really enjoyed getting in the classroom, and I feel like I have connected with my students. Then in the online side with LUO, I've been able to keep up and even grow in new areas in my job. So, I've been busy, busy, busy, but staying on top of things.

We brought Marlowe, our lab puppy, home a month ago already. It has gone by so fast, and she is growing even faster. She weighed 10 pounds when got her. She is already over 20. She is so sweet, and we all just love her to bits. She is getting better about not biting hard (she just play bites) and has learned to sit, stay, and come. We're proud of our girl and plan to get her in puppy training next month after Eliot's soccer season ends.

The day we got her...

And now...

Speaking of soccer, we lived in this crazy busy world of swim lessons and soccer both going on for about a month. It was far too busy, but I wanted to get Eliot closer to swimming and I didn't want him to miss out on soccer. Fortunately, it was only for a month, and the swim lessons really boosted Eliot's confidence. I feel like I need to write his instructor a nice letter or something because one week after swim lessons ended, he started actually swimming on his own under the water. Then he started cannon balling into the deep end and swimming to the shallow end. And just yesterday he started touching the bottom. He's growing so fast and it's just April. I'm so excited to see what the summer holds for him and swimming.

Eliot has only had two soccer games this season so far due to all of the rain, but he's doing even better than last season. This season, he is mostly with older kids and his team is pretty big, so he has less playtime and no goals yet, but he has done well recovering the ball multiple times each game. I really just want him to have fun, so when he gets the ball, it's a nice bonus.

Almost two weeks ago, Chris's mom and dad came in town to run the 5k. Chris also ran, and Eliot ran a 1k. I have determined that running races just really isn't for me. I don't like the crowds and have a panic attack (I'm not exaggerating) with so many people running alongside me, so I think I prefer just to run on my own around the neighborhood. I was so happy to go out and cheer everyone on, though, and it was a really beautiful day, especially with the free pizza. Chris won third place in his age group, so he got a fancy pants medal too, and Eliot did great for the 1k. Eliot was quite nervous at first, but he was pretty sure he "winned" in the end, so he ran all out to the finish. Ha. I know it was an incredibly special moment for Chris to be running with his son something longer than a little toddler dash, and I was tearing up watching them run together too.

With the warm weather, the boys have been in the pool almost every day, and I've been working on the gardens. All the nasty pollen and tree crud has been falling from the skies, so I fill up a bag of yard trash every day, yet it still looks messy out there. I've been planting new flowers in the bed out front for a "cottage" look, and Chris and I have picked up more tropical-looking plants for the back. I can't wait to get it finally all cleaned up once the trees stop trying to reproduce so we can spread some mulch too. I can't believe I'm one of those people who actually likes doing yardwork, but suddenly I am. Planning out the gardens during the cold months is what keeps me going, so it's such a relief to be able to dig into the dirt and see everything come together. I should probably live on an island....

Over the past four days, poor Jack-boy has been fighting off some kind of a virus. His temperature keeps going up to over 104 (one time it was 105), but the doctor assures me he is fine. Then his temp will go down, and I think we've beat it, just for it to go back up again at night. Ah. He seemed the best yet today, so maybe he'll be happier tomorrow or by the weekend. I think Eliot had the same cold last Sunday, but he just took a nap (which he never does) and then was fine. And of course Jack has passed the cold on to me too. I do love the extra cuddles, but I want him to feel better soon!

So, that has been our life lately. A lot going on in a lot of different directions!

A Second Chance by Way of an Inch Worm

As parents, we all have those nights when we are trying out hardest, but our best isn't received by the kids in the way we had hoped. I had an opportunity to be "the fun parent" by letting the boys slip down a cardboard box like a slide. They were having a blast. However, it was within ten minutes of bedtime, and though I warned them repeatedly that the fun would end, my cautions fell on deaf ears. And I would like to be the kind of parent who allows her kids to stay up late playing with a cardboard box, but I had been pushing through a crippling, multi-day migraine. I needed to finally be able to put my head under a pillow and hope for relief.

So, the bedtime routine began. Putting Jack in his pjs as he cried--though I did not raise my voice at him, I still felt bad about his protests. I lifted him over the rails into his crib, and he let out a loud, "NO! NO! NO!" Fortunately, by the time I turned off his light and closed the door, he wasn't crying at all. He just went right to sleep. I then turned down Eliot's request to read "just one, short book" before bed or to sing him a song. "No," I said. "Go pee in the potty. You're going to bed."

I was frustrated, and though I was not lashing out or being cruel, I was being cold. To be honest, my head hurt so badly that it was a struggle to even get words out.

After I closed the door, I resigned myself to do a few dishes before going to bed myself. Eliot crept around the corner. "Mom, I want you to cuddle with me. I can't sleep without a cuddle. And a song."

I didn't answer. I lifted Eliot's soccer water bottle from the counter to rinse it. There, a bright green inch worm scrunched up its body as it traveled down the bottle. It reminded me of one of Eliot's favorite books: If You Want to See a Whale.

I bent down and showed him. "Look," I said. "An inch worm. Do you want to hold it?"
"Is it slimy?" he asked.
"No," I replied. "Maybe just tickle-y."
"I want you to hold it."

I tried to convince the inch worm to climb on my finger. He wasn't interested. He stood up, challenging his balance, and looked for somewhere to go--anywhere but my finger. Eventually, though, I did scoot him on. I thought of all of the bugs that I have shown to Eliot over the past four years, the times I have tried to teach him gentleness and to value life (no matter how small), and how intrigued he has always been by all things in nature. I told Eliot that I'd put the worm outside and I'd be right back.

"I want to come!" Eliot cried excitedly.
"But it's raining," I said.
"I like the rain! And here are my shoes!"

All too often, the answer is no when really there is no reason why the answer can't be yes.
I helped Eliot get his shoes on, and we hurried into the rain to lead the worm to climb onto the frond of a palm tree by the deck. "This way he won't get too wet if he doesn't want to," I suggested.

We went back inside and I lay in bed with Eliot and I sang him to sleep. I am thankful for that second chance at a good night, even though it wasn't necessarily a bad night before, by way of an inch worm.